


Hot for Teacher

by kitcat234



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU - Welcome to Night Vale, F/M, Lee as Cecil, Professor Hermione, Professor Luna, Professor Neville, Radio Host Lee, WTNV inspired
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-18
Updated: 2015-01-30
Packaged: 2018-02-05 04:04:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1804636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitcat234/pseuds/kitcat234
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>*HIATUS* Lee and George, in a fit of boredom, make a bet that Lee has to woo the next girl to walk into their shop and get her to fall for him. Unfortunately for Lee, the next girl who walks in is not even single. And there's no way she's going to ever take him seriously. </p>
<p>With inspiration from "Welcome to Night Vale" in the form of Lee's own radio show - "Welcome to River Talk."</p>
<p>*HIATUS*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A long while back, during "The Prankster's Apprentice," some of my readers mentioned how much they loved how I wrote Lee, and that I should write him more. So I came up with the idea of writing a Lee and Hermione story.
> 
> THEN, a little later, I had the idea of Lee, after the War, going back to doing radio as the community's beloved radio host and voice of wizarding southern England. 
> 
> So then this happened.

“I spy…something orange and small with—”

“Pygmy Puffs.”

“Dammit!”

“Forty-three to thirty-seven. I think no matter what, I’m going to win, mate. Pay up.”

Lee Jordan dug in his pocket for a Chocolate Frog and chucked it at his best friend’s head. Lee plunked his head on the main counter of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes and let out a groan. He heard George yawn loudly next to him. It was a slow day at work.

The buzzing of a fly faded in and out, and the steady hum of pranks vibrating in their boxes and Pygmy Puffs quietly squeaking created a white noise that was almost enough to put them to sleep. They had had very few customers, as no one seemed to want to venture outside their homes into the unseasonably sweltering August day. Still, George and Lee had stuck it out and kept the store open, albeit with cooling charms on them. They had been sitting around for far too long and were desperate for anything to distract them. 

Lee looked out of the window just as an attractive blonde woman walked past their store, her white sundress dancing gracefully around her knees as she moved. Lee jutted his chin, wordlessly signaling to George, who followed his gaze and whistled quietly. 

“Now that’s a pretty bird,” said George with a lazy grin. “I wouldn’t mind talking to her today.”

“Like she’d go for a ginger,” teased Lee.

“You don’t know what she likes. She’d probably like me over you.”

“Not likely, carrot top!” 

“Oh, like you’re so hot. You probably couldn’t even get her to talk to you,” laughed George.

“How dare you doubt my charm and good looks!” cried a faux-outraged Lee, clutching his chest dramatically.

“Naff off, Jordan. I’d get her before you would, easily.”

“I could out-woo you any day, Weasley!”

“You think you're more suave than me? Seriously?”

“Definitely. I could get anyone to fall for me.”

“Oh yeah? Anyone?”

“Anyone.”

“You want to make this real?” 

“Yeah, let's make this real. I wager I can convince the next girl who walks into the shop to go on a date with me.”

George looked at him in undisguised glee. “The next girl? Any random girl?”

“Well, she has to be around our age, and she has to be fit. I’m not going out with someone’s mum or something,” Lee said with a shrug. George nodded in agreement.

“Then I’ll wager you won’t succeed,” said George. “And what do I get when you fail?” 

“The loser, and by loser I mean you, will be the tester for all of the products we create for two whole months.”

“Oh, excellent. Alright then. We have a wager.” George stuck out his hand and Lee took it. George, still grasping his hand, added, “But it can’t just be a night out. You have to get her to date you, officially. Really be mad for you.”

Lee frowned down at their clasped hands, considering. That made it tougher than he had originally planned. On the other hand, he had an impressive track record of dating people that had been known to be difficult to woo. This sounded like a challenge that was right up his alley. He smiled and gave George’s hand a firm shake. “It’s on.”

.

.

.

It had been two hours.

2 men, and 3 teenage boys had come in.

Not one single female had walked in their door. 

Several had passed by the shop. Five had stopped to look in the shop windows at the colorful displays that were whirring, spinning, flying, and moving about. One had taken the first two steps up to the door, but was called away from the store by what looked like her mother and another female relative, judging by the similar facial features. Lee was positive that he had never been this tense in his life. Not even at O.W.L.s time. Not even those were as nerve-wracking as this. 

He groaned and dropped into the armchair he had created for himself two hours into the uneventful day. George looked over the top of his Quidditch Today at Lee and chuckled. “Regretting making that bet already, are we?”

“No,” said Lee resolutely. “I’m fine. I just wish a woman would walk in the bloody shop!”

The front door’s bell jingled. Lee’s head whipped around as he hurriedly sat up. It was another teenage boy.

“OH FOR MERLIN’S SAKE!” shouted Lee.

George burst into laughter at the boy’s wide, startled eyes. “Sorry, mate. It’s not you, I swear. He’s just having a…rough day.”

“Stop smirking,” Lee muttered from where he was sitting, his arms flung over his face.

“You can’t even see me.”

“I’ve been best friends with you for thirteen years. I can hear you smirking.”

George just laughed. 

.

.

.

Another hour had passed and still no woman had shown her face in the shop. Lee was about ready to start pulling his dreads out. This was ridiculous. He just needed someone, anyone (decently attractive and not a horrible person – he didn’t ask for much!) to walk in the shop. No one had come in in the past forty-five minutes, and in their collective boredom, he had resorted to creating snowballs with his wand, and hurling them at George, who was standing on top of one of the other counters with his beater’s bat, hitting them and making it rain down snow that disappeared as soon as it touched the ground. 

Just as Lee pitched, George glanced out the window and said, “I think we’ve got a live one.”

“What? Seriously?” shouted Lee, the snowball out of his hand before he could stop it. 

They heard the jingling of the bell just as George’s bat connected with the snowball. Snow sprayed everywhere. “Well,” the newcomer said, an amused smirk twisting her lips, “it’s always good to know you boys are productive.” She brushed a few flakes of snow off her shoulders and grinned at them. George and Lee’s eyes met for a moment, and Lee felt his stomach flip over.

It was Hermione Granger.

Lee immediately straightened and George hopped down from the desk to greet her.

“So, Granger…what's a nice girl like you doing in a shop like this?” Lee said with a grin.

A surprised laugh bubbled up and out of Hermione. “Really? You're going to use that old line?”

“Well, it is a valid question,” he said innocently.

She rolled her eyes but smiled at him. “I’m just here to see what new products you two have dreamt up. I’ve got to be prepared for start of term.”

“We don’t exactly make your life easy, do we?” teased George.

“Absolutely not. Although I always get a wonderful reaction when I tell my students that I’m friends with you two.”

“Excitement?” asked George.

“Fear,” Hermione deadpanned. Lee snorted. “So don’t mind me, I’m just going to be walking around, looking at everything. I’m sure you have—” Her eyes flicked to George’s bat and onto Lee’s wand. “—Important matters to get back to.” She smirked and started up the stairs, apparently deciding to browse the shop top to bottom.

They waited until she was an appropriate distance away before they started. George burst into laughter and Lee groaned, smacking his head into the nearest wooden beam. 

“Oh no. Oh no. Oh no no no no no,” he muttered.

“This. This is perfect,” whispered George, still laughing. “Oh my god, this is going to be the easiest bet to win ever. I don’t think I’ve ever been happier. This is beautiful.”

“She’ll never take me seriously!” hissed Lee. 

“Lady Fate has it out for you, man. This is what you get for going around and dating so many girls. Katie, Alicia, Heidi Macavoy,” George listed on his fingers. 

“You dated your way through Hogwarts’ Quidditch teams and several girls from the National Leagues. Not to mention the Healers, the writers—”

“Okay! Okay! Merlin. I get it, alright?” hissed Lee. “You make it sound like I’ve dated half the bleedin’ country!”

“That’s cos you have!” laughed George.

“Where do you get off? You’re just as bad as me.”

“Yeah, but I don’t have to make Miss Rules up there fall in love with me,” George said with a cackle. Lee shoved him. “Well, you got what you asked for – about our age and attractive.”

“But not Hermione!”

“It could have been worse. It could have been Eloise Midgen or Pansy Parkinson. At least Hermione’s a friend and she’s fit.”

“I know she’s fit, but that doesn’t help me!”

George’s eyes widened in interest. “You think Hermione’s fit?”

“Oh piss off.” Lee wordlessly sent a hex at George, who deflected with a shield spell as easily as if he had lazily swatted at a fly. 

.

.

.

It was a half an hour later when Hermione came down the stairs and started looking around the bottom floor, and Lee set to watching her surreptitiously. He hadn’t been lying when he said he found Hermione attractive. Time had cared for Hermione Granger, who had gone from a bushy-haired, buck-toothed little girl to a fetching woman with long, wavy hair, pretty features, and a perfect smile that sheathed her dagger of a tongue. Brilliant and cunning, she was a loyal friend and a terrifying enemy. Lee respected her, but knew that she was not someone to be messed with, which made his task all the more daunting. 

What made it all the more worse is that he knew she was unequivocally not single. She had been dating the same bloke for four months, some nancy boy named Alfie Dunn who worked in the Department for Magical Law Enforcement and reminded Lee of a basset hound. 

"Oi!" he hissed. "She's got a boyfriend, mate. I can't go out with her."

"There's no backing out now - you said the next girl, and it was Hermione."

"But she's taken! Are you proposing I get her to cheat?"

"I've met the boyfriend. You have nothing to worry about. They'll be over by the month's end."

"What? How do you suppose that?"

"Hold on." George turned towards the upstairs level. "Hey, Hermione!" he shouted.

"Yeah?" she called back.

"You're coming to dinner Sunday, yeah?"

"Is that still going now that summer's about over?"

"Absolutely. You gonna come? You can bring Alfie too, if you want." George turned and winked at Lee.

"Alright. I'll be there. Same time?"

"Yeah."

"Okay."

George turned back to Lee and grinned. "Come to dinner. You'll see what I mean. And it'll be a good chance for you to talk more with Hermione, lay more groundwork for conversations in the future. Maybe try and inch whatshisface out while you're at it."

Lee glanced over to make sure she was not in earshot. "You are an awful human being. I may have questionable morals, but I'm not gonna be complicit in breaking her up with her pathetic, whinging boyfriend!"

"Bloody 'ell, it's not like I'm asking you to go put a hit out on the prat. Although Mum might not be opposed to it." He paused. "Actually, the more I think about it, the more I am amazed that Mum hasn't poisoned his food yet."

"Wow, she hates him that much? I thought Molly didn't hate anybody."

"Well, nobody is good enough for her precious Hermione."

"Well gee, that makes me feel all warm inside," Lee snarked.

George grinned. "If I didn't consider it cheating - which it is! - I would drop the idea of you two to Mum. She'd have a bloody cow; she'd probably just drag you lot to the Ministry to get it official then and there."

.

.

.

Lee was spinning his wheels, absolutely lost on what tack to choose, so he went with striking up a normal conversation. He watched as Hermione toured the shelves, occasionally taking down packages or bottles for products with which she was unfamiliar. “Why all this attention to detail, Hermione? Looking to buy? You don't strike me as the prankster type.”

Hermione turned to him. He noticed her eyes sweep over his body quickly before she met his gaze. “Well, behave yourself and I won't have to strike you at all,” she replied with a saucy grin.

Well, maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all...

“Now I'm very interested in your methods of teaching, Professor Granger.” He shot her a wink, which he was pleased to see made her cheeks pink ever so slightly before she turned back to the shelf.

“I think I’m in love,” sighed George, who had been watching their interaction.

“Back off,” Lee hissed. “Seriously, man.” He shoved George, who just laughed and shoved him back.

 

Twenty minutes later found Hermione seemingly satisfied with her tour of the store and at the register. Lee held up two self-inking quills wordlessly.

Hermione shrugged. “They have color-changing ink. I’ll do anything to make grading essays a bit more interesting.”

“Lies – you know you love it. We all know you secretly had a schoolgirl crush on Binns,” teased Lee.

Hermione pulled a face before taking the two boxes from him and depositing them in her bag. “Thanks for this, Lee. I’ll see you this Sunday?” He nodded, to which she smiled. “Well, thank George for the invite and tell him I’ll see him then as well.” She nodded a farewell at him before heading out the door.

George, who had been “doing inventory” (more like being an awful person and leaving Lee alone with a very not-single Hermione), came out from the back of the store. 

“Hermione says ‘thanks for the invite.’”

George grinned. “Sunday can’t come soon enough.”

Lee begged to disagree.


	2. Chapter 2

_Life is a series of vignettes all tied together, so make sure your performance is at its best._

_Welcome to “River Talk.”_

_The Wizengamot is trying to put forward a new law banning magical creatures from entering the chambers unless approved of by a majority vote by the panel. This new law stems from the most recent case of wild creatures running amok and terrifying the Wizengamot members, although it would probably be easier to just have some common sense and not bring a cockatrice into the Ministry of Magic._

_Summer is ending in a week, and that means that everyone needs to get their last minute summer to-do’s finished. And that includes heading to Diagon Alley to do some last minute shopping. Remember to be kind to those shop owners; I haven’t seen the people at Flourish and Blott’s this stressed since Rubeus Hagrid ordered The Monster Book of Monsters. And while you’re at it, stop by Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes for those last minute products to keep you entertained as we head into fall. I know, I know, shameless self-advertising, but do you expect any less? We’ve got some new products that are sure to thrill and excite. And if you’re the parents of small children or a professor – I apologize in advance for the headache._

_Next up, we’ve got the Gryffinpuffs, an up-and-coming folk rock band whose songs have been coming across the airwaves these past couple weeks and whose single (“Charms and Trickery”) is topping the charts. I know it’s been stuck in my head this week! But before that, I take you, dear listeners, to the weather…_

.

.

.

Lee looked around the yard next to whose fence he had just apparated. He could hear the sharp cracks that meant that Bill and Charlie were no doubt trying to duel with the outside furniture again. He craned his neck, trying to catch a glimpse over the house, but the Burrow was far too tall. He heard Molly Weasley’s ringing voice shouting them down, and grinned. It had been a few weeks since he’d come to dinner, about which he was sure he’d be getting an earful. Thankfully, though Molly had practically adopted him the moment she met him – that sticky, sweltering June day on that busy train station platform where Fred and George had dragged him, one pushing, one pulling, towards their mother to crow in unison that _this is our best friend, Lee Jordan, an’ can he come stay with us for a bit over summer, can he Mum, can he?_ And he had swelled with pride, because although he had just met them the September previous, and he considered the twins his best friends now, it was a different thing altogether to hear the shiny, new title aloud. She had smiled at him and when he had praised her Christmas pies, adding that Mum didn’t know how to bake, she had crushed him against her chest in a hug and said she’d whip them up and send them to his house, and that had been that – she remembered that he did has his own parents to have Sunday dinners with, and so he was not required to be at the Burrow every week. And if he had already had his once-a-month dinner with his family a fortnight ago, and spent last weekend having the freedom to walk about the flat in the buck without his roommate walking in (even though, in actuality, he spent the entire time clothed and powering through a new novel he had bought a month before and hadn’t had time to read), well then, Molly need not be any the wiser.

Lee walked in through the front door and weaved his way through the minefields of discarded trainers that littered the front hall, glancing in as he passed each room. It was just as he was turning the corner that he heard a telltale creak and shot out his arm just in time.

"Acting like a bunch of children!" Molly huffed as the door she had just flung open - into Lee - bounced off his hand. She looked around and gasped, closing the door quickly behind her. "Oh Lee, dear, I didn't even know you were there. I'm so sorry. How are you? Oh I'm so glad you came; we have a large group tonight - everyone's going back off to Hogwarts, you know, so they're coming back to get one last Weasley dinner in. I don't know what it is, but half of them always come back thinner; I swear, I don't know what those house elves are putting in their food, but all my boys are towering over me, and the girls have caught me up as well!"

"Can I help you with anything, Molly?" he asked while she finally took a breath, leading them into the kitchen.

"Oh thank you, dear. That would—" He eyes narrowed as she looked at someone over his shoulder who had just come in through the back door. "What now?" she asked suspiciously. 

"What?" asked an innocent voice. "I'm just offering my assistance for setting the table." George looked over and grinned at Lee, nodding his hello. 

"Is it back on the ground now?" she demanded. 

"Yes, Mum."

Molly bustled around the kitchen, collecting things for them to bring out, muttering under her breath all the while. "Battering tables around, acting like they're 20 again. Never mind Bill's got his own child now. Why Fleur lets him get away with such nonsense is beyond me. Going to wake the children and I will not tolerate temper tantrums at the table; I had enough of that those for a lifetime."

George spread out his arms just in time as plates started soaring across the room, arcing gracefully in the air before stacking themselves against his chest. With one hand, Lee picked up the basket lying on the counter, into which silverware had just finished placing themselves. With the other, he grabbed the large pitcher of lemonade Molly had been mixing. They headed out to the yard, the back door opening for them and a few tablecloths swooping past them, cuffing them each on the back of the head before soaring towards the three large tables Charlie and Bill were lining up. 

Lee looked around at the people collected in little groups around the backyard, all lit up by the late afternoon sun. Hagrid’s booming voice could be heard over everyone else as he chatted with Kingsley Shacklebolt about his new exciting creatures he had for the students this year. Lee shuddered to think what dangerous creature he had found cuddly and adorable now. Harry was talking with Ron and Oliver, probably about the national Quidditch rankings again, while a little ways away, Hermione chatted with Neville and Dean Thomas, whose burn-covered arm – after the War, he had surprised everyone by joining Charlie up in Romania – was draped around Luna Lovegood, who was shooting him fond looks whenever he spoke up. It took a few moments, but finally, Lee’s eyes fell on a head of mousy brown hair that had been carefully gelled back. 

He elbowed George. “Why am I not surprised he’s talking to Percy?”

George snorted. “Whenever she brings him, those two are joined at their boring personalities.”

Lee watched as Alfred Dunn turned his head, the light catching on his weak chin and prominent nose as his mud-colored eyes sought out his girlfriend. As far as Lee could see, Hermione did not notice this or take any care to check on him. It wasn’t much, but it seemed like a good sign.

“So, the usual tactics of divide and annoy?” asked Lee. He could see the decision warring across George’s face. “You prat! This is what we do! You can’t flake on me because of the bet.”

“Alright, alright,” conceded George. “But mostly because I love watching him turn colors.”

 

It was after they had deposited the table settings and were headed back toward the kitchen that George stopped and pulled him to the side. 

“I’ll make you a deal. I know you’re all, _No George, don’t bother them. I can’t flirt with her; she’s got a boyfriend. No, George; that’s morally ambiguous_ ,” he said, putting on a whiny voice.

“I don’t sound anything like that.”

“You do in my head when you say bollocks like that.”

“You have no assurance that they’re going to break up.” George suddenly looked shifty-eyed, which intrigued Lee. “You _do_ have assurance?” He looked around to make sure the coast was clear before asking, “Ginny?”

George beamed. “I’m not saying you need to jump in and sweep her off her feet. I’m just saying that _maybe_ no one will mind much if we tease him a bit,” he said carefully. “So here is my deal—”

“The infamous, aforementioned deal.”

“Yes. Shuttup. I’m hatching a plan. So my deal is that I’ll help in any small way I can to, ahem, show his flaws to our dear, sweet Hermione—”

Lee snorted, which earned him a look, probably because he was interrupting again.

“But once she’s single, you’re on your own and the bet goes into full-effect. Sounds fair?”

“Deal.” 

“What are you two doing hidden away from everyone else? Things like that make people think you’re up to something,” asked a female voice behind Lee, a hint of amusement in the tone.

“We’re talking about a bet we’ve made,” replied George with a grin.

Hermione looked between them interestedly. Lee tried to figure out if there was a subtle way of elbowing or stepping on George right now. There wasn’t.

“We’re looking to see how long it takes the Dream Team over there,” said George, gesturing with his head to Percy and Alfred, “to make people try to escape the conversations about their boring work stories.”

Hermione bit back a grin and glanced over at the two men, giving Lee a perfect moment to stomp hard on his best friend’s foot. 

_What?_ mouthed an innocent-looking George.

 _You know what!_ he mouthed back before they both turned in unison and smiled easily at Hermione, who had just looked back at them. 

“Be nice,” she said reproachfully.

“What are you talking about?” asked George in a shocked voice.

“We’re always nice,” finished Lee.

Hermione snorted indelicately. “Yeah,” she said dryly. “Sure.”

“Fine,” sighed Lee. “We’ll play nice. But only for you, Hermione,” Lee said, grabbing her hand lightly and curling his fingers around hers, raising it as if to kiss it.

She blushed ever so slightly as she laughed it off and pulled her hand away, giving Lee a little shove on the arm. “You two,” she huffed as she walked past them into the house.

“Smooth, man,” George said.

“Oh shut up,” Lee muttered, watching her go, thinking…

.

.

.

He was on his way back from the loo when he heard a creak from above him. That was odd; everyone should be outside talking. He hadn't noticed anyone missing from the yard, all lounging about, sleepy from food and mellow in the light of the fireflies in the purpling dusk. No one would miss him for a few more minutes if he investigated, right?

He tiptoed up the winding stairs, jumping the creaky ones. The landing was pitch black, but the door to the attic was slightly ajar. He pressed his fingertips to the door, which swung open, the noise muffled by the dust that blanketed every surface and caught the light that filtered through the circular window in the eaves. On instinct, he looked down. There, on the once-forest green floor, was a trail of footprints. Chuckling, he followed them, weaving through the teetering piles of Weasley and Prewett family heirlooms, until he saw a figure sitting on an old trunk, backlit by the window that looked out onto the backyard. 

"Hello, Hermione," he whispered, though it carried like a shout in the silent room. 

She started guiltily and turned around. "Oh, hello," she said nonchalantly, as if she had just passed him in the hall instead of just caught hiding behind a mannequin bedecked with 17th century robes and a big pink confection of an Easter hat, complete with fake baby chickens. 

"You know," he said in a breezy tone, "I, too, find that the best way to spend time with family and friends is to stare creepily down at them from high above, like a hunchback in a bell tower."

"Oh, you know that muggle story?"

"I went through a phase," he replied with a dismissive wave of his hand. "You're deflecting." The corner of her mouth flicked up. "Why are you hiding up here? You know the ghoul left years ago."

"Shame. I was planning on chatting with him about how to decorate my attic." 

Lee watched her as she spoke, not to him, but to the window. The light outside was fading and the oncoming dark made the window reflective. In it, he could see the frown pulling down her face. He sat down next to her on the old trunk.

"Hermione, are you okay?" he asked gently.

She didn’t say anything; just glanced at him, eyebrow crooked up.

“I know I’m not your first choice to talk to - I’m not Harry or Ron or Ginny—” 

“That’s actually a good thing,” she said.

“Has something happened? With them? With Alf?” She huffed in amusement. “I won’t make light of it, I promise. I’m not _that_ much of a jackass.” 

“I don’t think you’re a—” She made eye contact with him and grinned. “Alright. Not _all_ the time.” She heaved a sigh as Lee waited patiently. “I just needed to get away for a little while. I love that Molly invites me, but sometimes it can be a little stifling. It’s not that there’s anything _wrong_ ; I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”

“Such as? I know I get my pay from talking at people all day, but I’ve been told I’m a very good listener.” 

“You know he hates it when you call him that, right?” she said, her lips pursed as she tried not to grin. 

Lee widened his eyes innocently at the non-sequitur. 

Hermione laughed. “Don’t you dare. You know what I’m talking about.”

“I don’t understand why? Alfie is a perfectly adorable name.”

“For a toddler!”

“But yet it doesn’t suffice for a man-child? I mean, the bloke plays with toy boats all day.”

“He builds model boats inside glass bottles! It’s a very delicate and difficult task. It requires a lot of—”

“Stop,” said Lee with a grin, wrapping a hand around Hermione’s wrist, which had been gesticulating as she spoke. “Now think about what you just said. You’re defending a man who gets off on building tiny boats with tweezers. And his favorite member of the Weasley family is Percy the Prat. There’s clearly something wrong with him.”

Hermione smacked him on the arm. “You said you wouldn’t tease me.”

“You’re right. I did.” He held up his hands in a placating gesture. “And really, what do I know? Maybe playing with toys makes the girls really want to shag you.”

"Well, you would know, wouldn't you?" she replied, smirking.

“Touché, Granger." He let the silence fall.

"I just don't know if I'm ready to go back tomorrow. I mean, I know I have no choice, but I just have so many things unfinished or that I'm in the middle of and I'm worried about starting school and it all falling apart."

Lee hummed in understanding.

"Everyone keeps telling me I'll be fine and that I'm brilliant and have nothing to worry about, but that doesn't help. It almost makes it worse because I'm worried that everyone expects too much of me." She finally looked away from the dark window and a guilty expression took residence on her countenance. "And I've been sitting here complaining to you and keeping you away from everyone. I'm sorry, Lee."

He smiled at her and gave her shoulder a squeeze, interrupting her. "No need to apologize, Hermione. I offered to be the sounding board, after all. And for the record," he said, shooting her a sideways glance," I think you've had enough years of being perfect. It must be time now for you to act like the rest of us mortals."

He was proud that this got her to laugh. 

“Well, we best get back downstairs,” she said, standing and straightening the wrinkles in her clothes.

“Maybe I should let you go first. We don’t walk to go out together and have dear Alfie thinking we were having some kind of tryst,” he said, nudging her lightly with his elbow.

Hermione laughed as she headed out the door. “Come on, Lee. Who would think that?”

The smile on Lee’s face slid off as soon as Hermione had walked away. He had a tough job ahead of him.

.

.

.  
 _Remember, everyone, to cherish your time with your family before everyone goes off for school. It’s only when we lose something that we realize how important it was._

_I’ve been losing sleep lately, so I think it’s time for me to reacquaint myself with it._

_Good evening, listeners, and good night.  
_


	3. Chapter 3

_The summer is over, but the fun has just begun._

_Welcome to “River Talk.”_

_School starts tomorrow! September 1st is upon us once again, and that means that all the kiddies will be heading back to school for another year of learning. Hopefully, those kids at Hogwarts will flourish, no longer plagued by the bureaucracy that interfered last year. And by that, dear listeners, you all know that I am speaking of the retirement of our beloved Minerva McGonagall, former Transfigurations professor and now former Headmistress. Under her, in these six years since the War, Hogwarts has risen from the (both metaphorical and literal) ashes and not only returned to its former glory, but rose to heights that it had not seen in years. Albus Dumbledore would have been proud. Ah, I can remember it like it was yesterday: McGonagall wrenching the magical megaphone away from me while I tried to hit on various talented Quidditch players - here’s lookin’ at you, Johnson! - and curse at those that cheated. I think those are the moments we truly bonded. You’ve reached a certain level when a teacher can cuff you around the head but never give you a detention. …Uh oh, was I not supposed to spill that secret, Minerva?_

He chuckled.

_I know that I speak for everyone who was lucky enough to learn from her and work with her when I say that, Headmistress, you will be missed dearly. And I hope your retirement is relaxing. But not too relaxing. We wouldn’t want you getting bored._

_Returning to that school board tizzy that filled our newspapers last spring, Hogwarts has officially welcomed Prosper Pannychis as its new Headmaster. And yes, that’s how it’s said. I know you all have been mouthing it silently to yourselves as you read it in the newspaper. Pan-ih-kiss. You’re welcome._

_Pannychis has a degree in Magical Education and taught Transfiguration as an exchange teacher at the Salem Witches’ Institute in America for ten years. In a statement made yesterday to the press, Pannychis said that he was “very happy to be coming back to Hogwarts, and is looking forward to working with both the students and staff to make this year a strong one.” Well, Headmaster, we sincerely wish you the best in your new position._

_Now let’s go to an ad from one of our sponsors - “The Quibbler."_

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Settling into her quarters at Hogwarts, Hermione again was distracted by the thoughts that had been plaguing her for weeks now, practically unavoidable now that she was faced with the start of term and thus, the start of her stress and the end of her free time. It was Alfred. Of course it was Alfred. 

She sighed and ran her fingers through her bushy hair, nails scraping at her scalp as the mulled everything over for what must have been the fourteenth time, at least.

It wasn't that he had done anything wrong. By all accounts (and those awful witch magazines Lavender was reading and shoving in her face, asking her things like _Would you define yourself more as a free spirit or a homebody?_ ), Alfred did everything that a boyfriend should. He was attentive, took her on dates, checked in with her to see how her day went, held her hand and complimented her appearance. But, everything was just a bit too much. His constant compliments made her more uncomfortable than flattered (how many times could you say "thank you" before it sounded trite?), he was far more affectionate, and his attentiveness frustrated her. She couldn't help but think that if Lavender wasn't so superficial when it came to men and their looks, he would be perfect for her. Not that he was bad looking. Alfred had a quirky charm that had drawn her to him; a strong nose that had reminded her of Victor, kind blue eyes that had a sparkle in them when he talked about his shipbuilding hobby; a cute lisp that was often hid, but became more noticeable when he was tired or too distracted to remember to rein it in. And no, he wasn't exciting _per say_ , but he was intelligent and…safe. And she had wanted safe, had _craved_ safe. But, to be honest, being with him, maintaining the relationship, had started to feel like a chore. His...there was no better word for it... _clinginess_ was stifling. And she didn't know if she wanted to just continue dealing with this while also dealing with the stress of teaching and the new Headmaster, who she did not yet know besides a formal handshake.

She looked around at her familiar yet empty home. This truly was her home; her flat in London was just there for storage and summer holiday. She frowned at her trunk and, with a wave of her wand, her clothes and toiletries soared to their correct spots, her books soaring to the bookshelf that took up the entire north wall. 

Was she being too picky? She had talked to her best friends about it a week or so back, but they hadn't exactly been helpful.

_"Of course you're unhappy, Hermione," Ron said with a dramatic eye roll. "He's boring. And nobody likes him."_

_"Ron!" Ginny scolded._

_"What? You know it's true! Even Mum hates him, and Mum likes everybody! Harry, back me up."_

_Harry stammered for a moment, not making eye contact with her. "Well, he does have a point, 'Mione. He just doesn't really make sense for you. I know I'm not an expert on this--"_

_"Because you found your wife in second year?" Hermione said._

_Ginny giggled, patting Harry's unruly hair. "Hermione, if you're unhappy, just ditch him."_

_"It's not that I'm _unhappy_ , it's just that--"_

_"You're not _happy_."_

_Hermione sighed. "Yeah." She wrapped her arms around her, hoping she could shield herself from this unpleasantness._

_"You need to break up, 'Mione," said Ron through a mouthful of buttered bread. "For all our sakes."_

_Ginny cuffed him on the back of the head._

Maybe they were right. She felt awful at the prospect of hurting him when he had truly done nothing wrong, but she really did need to look out for herself first.  
She sighed and waved her hand at the radio, which flicked on to the end of a song she liked but could not remember the name of. That’s what she needed – a distraction. The song ended and a familiar warm voice filled the room.

_That was “Jinxed My Heart Away” by the Olden the Giant. Catchy, right? Well, we’ve got more music coming at you, songs to try and keep you going on this busy day. Remember to get all those last minute goals checked off before the new term starts. You might not have time later to get them done._

Hermione glared at the radio for a moment. She had never believed in signs and premonitions. That was much more Lavender’s forte. But, maybe…just this one, she would listen. She walked to the fire, threw a pinch of floo powder into the grate, and stepped into the bright green flames, and zoomed away.

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She stepped out of the hearth and smiled at the woman nearby who had looked up in interest at the newcomer.

"Hello, Rosmerta," she said with a wave as she headed towards the front door of the Three Broomsticks. 

"Nice to see you, Hermione," the hostess called after her. 

Hermione stepped out into the warm afternoon air, taking a moment to appreciate how nice it was outside. Now she just had to work up the courage to be a horrible person to a very well meaning man. Fighting monsters? No problem. Ending a relationship? It practically had her shaking in her shoes. 

She made a quick turn and landed outside his apartment door. She took a deep breath, then knocked. A few moments later, it flew open. 

"Hermione, darling, I didn't expect you. Come in." Alfred embraced her before she even got fully across the threshold, clutching her tightly to his chest and laying tens of little kisses on her temples. 

Hermione's eye twitched. "Hi, Alfred."

"How was your day, angel? You look stunning by the way. But you always do. I hope your day was as beautiful as you are."

"Thanks, that's very sweet," she said quietly. 

He hurried away, only to come back and shove a large glass bottle into her hands. "Look, darling, I've started a new ship. This one is inspired by that muggle poem 'The Rime of the Ancient Mariner.' If you look closely, you can even see a miniature albatross on the bow."

"Very impressive."

He puffed his chest out proudly.

She handed back the bottle before taking another deep breath. She could do this. She just had to be honest. "Alfred, I'm very sorry, but I came to break up with you."

The bottle slipped from his hands. Hermione saved it inches before it shattered, floating it carefully over to his coffee table. 

"Wh-what?"

Be honest. Be honest. “I really am sorry, Alfred. I’m just not very happy right now.”

“This is all my fault,” he cried. He rushed forward, clutching her hands tightly, a flush slowly making its way up his neck onto his cheeks. “Hermione, I am so sorry. I should have realized. I should have been a better boyfriend to you. I should have been there more, done more for you, given you more…”

Uh oh. 

This was not going the way she planned. 

“I can fix this. I can be better. Hermione, please give me another chance to prove to you that I can be better.”

Oh no. Oh bollocks. Bugger telling the truth! That would give her a one way ticket to becoming Mrs. Hermione Dunn. 

“No, Alfred, listen to me,” she said, pulling him into a hug, thanking Merlin that she was already shaking with nerves. She let out a shuddery breath into the crook of his neck. “I’m so sorry. It’s me. It’s _my_ fault.”

“What?”

“With teaching and always being away and publishing, I just haven’t had the time to be a proper girlfriend to you,” she said tearfully. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she recalled having to pull a move like this her fifth and seventh years to get out of trouble. Of course, then she was battling dark forces, not a clingy boyfriend, but it still came in handy. “And it just isn’t fair to you to continue on like this, not being able to be the girlfriend that you deserve. Oh, Alfred, I wish it didn’t have to be this way. I wish we could stay together. But there’s no way for us to stay like this and be happy. I don’t want you ending up resenting me for not being able to be there for you like I should. I know I’m just not good enough for you, and I just don’t have the time to be what you deserve. I’m so sorry.”

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Hermione stepped through the front door, which creaked, and immediately, there were little footsteps and a gasp from a floor above. She looked up and saw a familiar face and mess of turquoise hair poking through the rails of the banister.

“AUNTIE HERMIONE’S HERE! HI AUNTIE HERMIONE!” Teddy screamed, running down the stairs at top speed. When he got close to the end, the six year old launched himself at her, wrapping his little arms tightly around her neck, burying his face into her neck. “I MISSED YOU!”

“I missed you too, Teddy,” she said with a laugh. She looked up as she heard more footsteps coming down the stairs. “Hello, Ron.”

Ron grinned at her, ruffling her hair and earning himself a glare. “Teddy was just showing me his new wolf toy.”

 _Another one?_ Hermione mouthed.

“We’re up to twenty-seven now. Come on, Harry and Gin are in the kitchen.”

Hermione had barely said her hellos when Ginny gave her a piercing look before a grin split her face. “So you did it?”

Hermione nodded.

“Did what?” asked Harry, who was currently being used as a jungle gym.

“I broke it off with Alfred.”

“YES!” shouted Ron, high-fiving a beaming Harry before hugging his sister. Teddy cheered, always ready to be in on whatever fun was happening.

Hermione snorted. “Thanks for the sympathy guys. No, don’t ask me how it went. That’s quite alright.”

“How’d it go, Hermione?” asked Harry seriously, though there was a twinkle in his eye.

“Fine.”

Ron snorted. “Wow. Thanks for that, ‘Mione.” There was a pause. “Did he cry? Please told me he cried,” he requested gleefully.

“No, he did not cry, Ronald. He was very sweet about it. He said he understood completely and that he wished me the best.”

Silence fell as the others mulled this over, looking mildly impressed.

“Did you make it his idea?” Ginny accused, pointing with a wooden spoon in a move very reminiscent of her mother. One look at Hermione seemed to give her the answer. “Don’t tell me; _I just can’t be what you need and deserve right now. I just care about you too much_.”

“Oi! How did you--, is that--, Merlin’s saggy left--”

“LANGUAGE!” 

“THAT’S A LINE?”

“Oh no,” giggled Hermione. “Ron, did some girl use that on you?”

“Meadow,” mumbled Ron.

“Ron, you should’ve known what you were getting into when you met her and her name was _Meadow_ ,” said Harry. He laughed as Ron reached around Teddy to punch Harry on the arm.

Ginny came over to Hermione and gave her a hug. “I’m glad that you’re rid of him. It’ll be for the best; trust me. Now, if you’ll excuse me for a minute.”

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Lee was just about to head back to the studio to do his nighttime report when a pearly, smoky horse vaulted through their front window and cantered up to the front desk. 

“George!” he shouted to the back room.

“WHAT?”

“Get out here! Patronus from Ginny!”

George ran out. He nodded to the horse, which did a couple prancing steps before the youngest Weasley’s voice rang out through the shop. 

_“She did it! She broke up with him! She’s over here telling us about it! Apparently she tricked him into thinking it was his idea! What a prat! Oh, I can’t wait to tell Mum. I think I’m gonna tell her face to face.”_

The horse let out a whisper of a whinny before disappearing.

George turned to beam at Lee, who was staring at where the horse had been.

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_And for all those out there, remember that tomorrow doesn’t just mark the start of school. Think of this September 1st as a harbinger of change. Of things ending and things beginning. Let’s look at this September as a start to a new chapter._

_Good evening, listeners, and good night.  
_


	4. Chapter 4

Prosper Pannychis stood at the head of the room, in front of the table laden with breakfast, steam wafting up from the golden plates. He smiled at the collective teachers and clapped his hands together. 

“Alright troops,” he said in a booming voice, “I want to thank you all for being here this morning.” 

Hermione heard a snort next to her and she hid a grin. She chanced a look at Neville, whose eyes widened, realizing he had been caught. “Like we have a choice,” she whispered. He grinned back.

“I know it’s been hard saying goodbye to Minerva, who, like Albus before her, has been such a constant figure at Hogwarts, especially with all that fuss last year with the Board about who would be her replacement. I know I’ll never be able to fully fill the hole she has left in Hogwarts, but I want to bring a fresh eye to this school and a new energy. It’s been great these past ten years in America, first at Academy 51 in Nevada and then at the Salem Witches’ Institute in Massachusetts, but I’m happy to be back in Britain. I hope we can all work together to make this upcoming year a strong, successful, and - most importantly - fun one!” He beamed and looked around expectantly at the teachers, most of whom were staring at his, slightly glassy-eyed, a few yawning or blinking rapidly to stop themselves from falling asleep.

Hermione surreptitiously glanced around. What was he waiting for? It seems one of the professors had figured it out. A few claps rang out in the stone-walled room. Everyone caught on quickly, putting their hands together a few times. 

Pannychis beamed. “Help yourselves to breakfast, everybody. And I can’t wait to get to know all of you better in these coming months!” His eyes cast around for a professor to talk to, and Hermione looked away quickly. _Please don’t talk to me, please don’t talk to me._ She glanced around and let out a small sigh of relief when she saw him talking to Professor Vector.

Hermione had smiled politely through the (far too long) speech, and it was a testament to how used to his presence she had become that she did not jump at the silk-smooth whisper next to her left ear. "It's far too early for pleasantries." There was a faint note of a drawl in the smoky voice. 

She chuckled despite her proximity to Pannychis. "In general, or just for you? Bc time must constantly be surpassing you if you think the latter," she muttered. She turned slightly and quirked an eyebrow at the Potions master.

"If that must be, then you must be perennially be late to take care of your appearance." His stony glare would have tricked 90% of the residents of Hogwarts, but not Hermione.

"Zabini," she said, leveling him with a look of her own.

"Granger."

They maintained, unblinkingly, for a long moment before Hermione's resolve crumbled and her lips quirked up in a grin. The corners of Blaise Zabini's eyes crinkled. 

"Hallo, Blaise," she said, pulling the man into a hug. He let out his customary dignified noise of dissent - which she customarily ignored - before hugging her back gently. "How was your holiday?"

He pursed his lips. "Dreadful as ever. Mother made me put in appearances."

"And how is Ms. Zabini?"

"Thrilled to be the new Lady Capriano. She's ever so proud of him. This one might even make it to five years."

“Five," she said, keeping a straight face, "You must really like your new daddy to give him such a hopeful term."

A loud exhale was forced from his proud, perfect nose, but the sparkle in his verdigris eyes told his amusement in this - one of their many games. 

"And how is dear Alfred? The armada as strong as ever, I presume."

Hermione's smile faltered. "We broke up."

His mask of mild condescension slipped and in its place was genuine concern and regret. "Oh, Hermione, I'm sorry. I didn't--"

"No, of course you didn't. It's fine. I ended it. He was just too-" Blaise nodded. She had told him about it all. 

It had come as a surprise to all - most to the the pair themselves - when the two new teachers, who had been as far apart as it could be while students, found a bond as coworkers and, later, friends. Years and a War had scraped away the veneer of house differences and teen rivalries to show them that a very similar makeup lay under the two armors. Hermione - knowing Blaise had taken his mother (the one person on earth he would admit to loving) and hid when Voldemort rallied his troops against the castle, returning when the battle was done to help rebuild the fortifications of a collapsed castle and reputation - had offered up a new start, a blank slate. And Blaise - who came forward with the revealing of a well-hid longtime respect for the winning side and a quiet acceptance of the witch as his equal, both in talent and beliefs - had accepted it and had offered trust in return. 

"Ruddy twat, I always thought," murmured Blaise as he filled a mug with coffee. 

Hermione snorted. "Oh did you?" she asked, carefully selecting some pastries and placing them on her stacked plates. "And you didn't want to share?"

"And steal that lovely opportunity from Weasley? How could I?" He held open the door for her, falling into step a few paces later. "How is the Cannon, anyways?"

She rolled her eyes at the nickname   
( _"Because of his team?"  
"That's hardly imaginative. It's also because his blundering on is so loud."  
"Oh how scathing."  
He had given her a rare, cheeky smile._ )   
and held open the door to her office. "Thrilled." Once they had seated themselves in her inner office and divvied out breakfast, he turned to her expectantly. 

"You know how it is. I broke up with him and then was given the full fanfare. I'm pretty positive Ginny rushed out of the room at one point to inform the rest of the family. Something that was said at the end of RiverWatch made it seem like it."

Blaise gave a delicate snort into his coffee. 

"What?"

"You honestly think your breakup made it to the news? You may be 'one of the Wizarding world's savior', but you're not that important."

She leaned over to smack him, but he dodged it easily. "I mean, it's not top notch journalism, but still..."

"Why do you do that? You always act like you can't stand those two, but I know you find them funny. And I know for a fact that your radio is preset to Lee's station."

He leveled a glare at her that was more embarrassment at her uncovering of his humanity and soft edges than anything else. It was a look she had seen constantly at the beginning of their hesitant alliance, but hardly ever saw now that they had grown close. He seemed to be comfortable to permit himself to open up behind closed doors with her, but as soon as they were in public, he sealed up and maintained the aloof, bored manner that was his trademark. 

Blaise broke their eye contact to survey his impeccable nails, signifying that they were to be done with that topic. He took a moment to dunk a piece of his pastry into his coffee before neatly popping it into his mouth. "She's at it again," he drawled as he neatly wiped his mouth with a napkin. 

Hermione chucked. "It's the first day back! How could she possibly have done something already?"

"She took the seat next to me in the meeting--"

"How dare she! Taking an open seat!"

He shot her a look of disapproval over his mug before continuing. "--And then proceeded to sit so close to me that she was practically on my lap, shoving her chest into my side as she whispered her inane commentary on Pannychis and his aura." 

Hermione grinned at his slight shift of disgust. "Well, Lavender's never been very good at picking targets."

"Clearly."

"Have you ever thought of just telling her directly that you're not interested?" 

The soft slurping of coffee echoed in the quiet room. He stared rather determinedly at his croissant.

"You like the attention! I knew it! You like being fawned over and constantly hit on."

"I most certainly do not," he said indignantly.

"Then why not tell her to just stop?"

"I like to keep my channels open. It would be much easier to get something I need from someone attracted to me than someone feeling spurned."

"Spoken like a true Slytherin. You should know it’s not good to lead people on, Blaise.”

His eyes took on a mischievous glint. “Sooo, how long do you think it will take Hartwicke to realize you’re single?”

“Out! Get out!” she mock-shouted.

“I can’t wait. My bet’s on one week minimum, two weeks max.”

“Out! Get out, you horrible man!” She shooed him from the office, shoving him towards the door, not caring if he spilled his coffee on himself.

“You never know; he might _transfigure_ your affections,” Blaise chortled, a deep rumble that Hermione was usually thrilled to hear, as it made itself present so rarely. But not this time. “I feel like I should lay down some hints, see how long it takes him.”

“You’re horrible and I hate you,” cried Hermione, half-laughing, half-yelling. “Get out and never come back.” She slammed the door as soon as she had shoved him across the threshold. 

“We’re still on for afternoon tea?” he said, his voice muffled by the door.

“Of course,” she replied, laughing and heading back to her desk to go over her lesson plans.  
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 _And now, from a word from our sponsors._

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When Lee headed into work the morning of September 1st, rifling through his morning reports that needed reviewing before the final update at show time, he heard a forceful female voice topping those of the customers milling about the store. He made his way around the obstacles of precariously perched products and tall towers of toys without looking up from his update on the dragon debacle in Denmark (it had moved down through Sweden but was finally contained around Roskilde) and made his way behind the counter.

“Hello, Angie. I thought I heard your dulcet tones as I walked in,” finally looking up to smile sweetly at the tall black girl leaning against the register.

“Ah, if that isn’t the voice of our generation with the face for radio.”

“Liar. You know you just couldn’t handle all of this,” he said, gesturing to himself.

Angelina Johnson snorted and gave her braids a small toss. “Jordan, it’s been thirteen years. Give it up.”

“Never!”

“I heard your broadcast yesterday,” she said, a small smile tugging at the edges of her smirk.

"I know, I know. I shouldn't be hitting on my best mate's girlfriend."

"I'm not his—"

Now it was Lee’s turn to snort derisively. “Oh, save it for someone who buys that dragon dung, Johnson.”

Rather fortuitously, George took that moment to appear, a customer in tow. He grinned and nodded slightly at Lee, and wrapped his arm gently around Angelina’s hip, moving her to the side as he took her spot in order to ring up the customer. Angelina smiled softly at George. Lee smirked at her, eyebrow cocked. 

Her eyes met his and she scoffed. “Oh shut up.”

He laughed and went back to his papers. It was after the customer had finished that Angelina coughed to get his attention. “So…speaking of “all of that,” she said, gesturing with an open palm to his whole body, “You think Hermione can handle it?”

Lee’s eyes widened as George burst into laugher. Lee rounded on him. “You told her? You told her about the bet?”

“Obviously.”

“George, we said we couldn’t tell anybody because we don’t want her finding out.”

“She’s not _anybody_. Of course I was going to tell Angie.”

“It doesn’t matter that she’s your girlfriend—“

“She’s not my—“

“I’m not his—“

“Oh shut it, you two,” he said with a huff. “I get that it’s Angie, but this is Hermione we’re talking about. She knows all! I have to be careful that none of them find out about the bet. She’d flay me alive!”

“You’d be so handsome skinless,” said Angelina sweetly, fluttering her eyelashes.

He flipped her a rude hand gesture. “Bugger off, Johnson.”

“I swear, I only told Angie. That’s it. Even Wood doesn’t know,” said George before turning to help another customer. 

“When are you going to get on with this anyways?” asked Angelina. “I’d love to be around to see the fireworks. And by fireworks, I mean the sparks coming off her wand as she hexes you from here to next Tuesday.”

“She only broke up with her boyfriend yesterday. I can’t rush this. A true gentleman never takes advantage of a lady,” Lee said.

“Oh yeah, where’s he?”

Lee shot her a look out of the side of his eyes, to which she laughed. “You just wait, you two. Oh ye of little faith. You nonbelievers. I will woo Granger and I will win her!”

There was a pause.

Angelina turned to George. “Can we tell Ollie? I want to put a wager on this and watch him lose.”

“Oi!"


	5. Chapter 5

_It is extraordinary to say that we are the human race, a widespread and powerful presence in this life, but also just another animal walking this earth in a world that has a plan and an order that is vaster than we can imagine. And yet it is true._

_Welcome to RiverTalk._

_We are on Day Three of the "Mainwaring v. MacGibbon" case that has set the media ablaze and the Wizengamot's marble shaking in its settings. Yesterday, as we reported here, the accusations were flying hard and fast between the two international Quidditch players - Quintus Mainwaring of the Caerphilly Catapaults, and Eion MacGibbon of the Wigtown Wanderers. The air was practically toxic with the amount of mud being slung; Rita Skeeter's horrid Quick Quotes Quill could hardly keep up. (And, listeners, if you'll allow me a momentary editorial - Skeeter's presence in that room means that an article is in the works. As a journalist myself, it is not very sportsmanlike to say that you should not read her work, but…well…you know that phrase about taking something with a grain of salt? Well, carry the whole shaker with you when her account comes out. And now, back to the story…) For those of you not following the story - and I applaud any such people if they have somehow avoided the media barrage that has come from this case - Quintus Mainwaring is suing Eion MacGibbon for reckless endangerment with intent to kill based off of last month's match, in which MacGibbon hexed Mainwaring mid-air, causing him to fall almost 200 feet from where the Caerphilly seeker was flying. MacGibbon, meanwhile, has pleaded not guilty, and has accused Mainwaring of seducing and cheating with his wife, Emily MacGibbon, with the intent of running away with her._

_To say this case is murky is putting it lightly. Our correspondent is at the courtroom now, and we will be bringing you story as it is happening to keep you updated. But for now…let's go to a word from our sponsors._

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Lee paced around the back office of WWW, mulling things over. George (and Angelina) had been getting on his case about making a move with the bet ever since Hermione had broken up with Alfie over a week ago. He had been hesitant to move in and start working on the situation. He wanted to make sure she was not still upset over the breakup; he wasn't a complete cad, after all. He had had to coach and comfort so many of his female friends through breakups before, so he knew how they usually went. And sure, he might have dated a few of those girls, and then when they had separated, left with the hope that some other poor bloke would know how to hold them and rub their back just like they liked, but that was beside the point. He wasn't expecting Hermione to be anything like all the other girls he had dealt with. Time had proven that she was solely herself, utterly unique. So he was unsure how to go about this situation. All he knew is that he needed information on her, and that he had to proceed slowly but with purpose.

He heard the jingle that meant that new customers had come in, and George shouting a familiar welcome. He heard voices and poked his head around the door. It was Ginny and Harry at the counter, talking to George, who was playing with a miniature of himself.

"Tedmeister! You visit and you don't even say hello to Uncle Lee?" he called across the shop, drawing looks and smiles from the others as well as from some errant customers. He heard the happy squeal from the six year old begging to be put down, and dropped to his knees just in time to catch the child barreling towards him, his flaming hair shifting to turquoise and his freckles fading as he crossed the shop. "There's my boy!" said Lee, clutching the boy to his chest in a bear hug as little arms wound around his neck. "What're you looking for today?"

"A doll."

"A doll?" Lee asked as he carried the boy back to the others. He glanced over Teddy's shoulder to see Ginny mouthing something. It took him a minute, but he realized it was _NOT A WOLF DOLL_. "What kind of doll?"

"A wolf doll!"

He stifled a laugh as Harry groaned and Ginny rolled her eyes. "Well, what about a cool action figure that can ride on your wolf's back? Wouldn't that be cool?"

"Wellllll…" Teddy said, clearly contemplating.

"Here, your Daddy and Uncle George can go take you to look at them and you can see which one you want to be friends with your dolls, okay?" He handed Teddy off to Harry, who took his hand and followed George up the stairs to the "6 and Under" section on the second floor.

"Thanks for that," said Ginny, turning and giving him a tired smile. "Andy is sick today, so we're taking him around town to get him away from the house so she can rest. I just had a match last night though, so I'm really dragging today."

"Congrats on the win," he said, raising his hand for a high five. "Knew you could beat those Kestrels."

She grinned and slapped his palm. "Amiee got MVP for the match. Solid goal-tending."

They fell into a companionable silence as she fiddled with the small packages they had in bowls next to the register. Lee was searching for another topic to bring up, when his earlier problem came back to him.

"Hey Gin, how's Hermione doing? After the breakup and all?"

"She's fine," she said simply. "Why?"

"She's my friend. And I want to make sure she's faring well."

Ginny narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously, looking extremely reminiscent of Molly. "Then why don't you ask her how she's doing? If you're such good friends."

"C'mon Ginny, that's awkward. She knows I hated her tosser boyfriend."

"So? We all did. And she broke up with him. That shouldn't bother her."

Lee let out an aggravated sigh. Trust Ginny to take this simple topic and make it more aggravating than it already was. "Just...ugh...okay, so she's well?"

"Yes," she said, picking up a pack of Limited Edition Fall Flavored Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans.

"Like, how far in the recovery process would you say she is? Just hazarding a guess," he asked, trying to sound as casual as possible, like this information wasn't important or even interesting.

"She's over it but taking her time alone now," she said thoughtfully before catching herself. The grin spread across her face like the Cheshire Cat that the famous wizard Lewis Carroll wrote about in that story about that muggle girl, Alice. "Lee," she sang, "why are you asking?"

He hesitated. Was it cheating if she knew? If he told her, it was practically guaranteed that she would (1) tell Harry, who would probably tell Ron, (2) try and play matchmaker. He weighed his options. She was nosy; she would probably find out about this one way or another. And if he let her try and find out on her own, it opened up the possibility of her finding out about the bet, which would be disastrous. But, on the other hand, that group was fiercely loyal to Hermione. If he told them, he would be setting up a veritable cornucopia of sources that he could get intel on how to woo Hermione best. But if this failed...well, he didn't want to imagine what they would do to him for hurting Hermione.

"Leeeeeeeeeee," she sang again.

"IfancyHermione," he blurted out, carefully arranging his face into one of shocked embarrassment at the idea that he had uttered those words aloud.

Ginny's eyes widened before she let out a high pitched squeal, so different from her usual demeanor. Lee was thankful his grimace of pain at his potentially bleeding eardrums could easily be construed as embarrassment. "And you want to date her?"

"If she'd have me," he mumbled bashfully.

"Oh Merlin!" She looked about ready to vibrate out of her skin, she was so excited. It was all going perfectly. He just had to seal the deal with the magic words.

"You can't tell anyone!" he said desperately.

Ginny grinned. "Of course, Lee! You're secret is safe with me."

He watched as she turned away towards her husband, who was walking back down the stairs with Teddy, who was clutching a female Healer doll, complete with lime green robe and a fabric medical chart sewn to one hand. She headed over to them, beaming and muttering something. Harry's eyes flicked to Lee for an instant before smiling softly at her and muttering, _Later._ Check and mate.

.

.

.

Lee headed down the dark earthen tunnel, following the light of his wand and breathing in the cool, damp, moss-scented air. He was probably about a quarter of a mile from the school at this point.

While the rebuilding of the castle had taken place, Lee and George had made sure to honor the Marauders before them and help those that would follow in their footsteps by taking care of the secret passages. Not that anyone else really knew that. Well, Harry had called them on it, after looking over the Map and being alarmed at the presence of passages _he_ had never seen before. They had unblocked a couple in the castle - the fake tapestries that were actually doors, the hidden alcoves, the small, circular wrought iron staircases hidden behind paintings that let you avoid the traffic between floors. But when it came to the passages in and out of the castle, they thought it best to leave them blocked. There was the appeal of nostalgia to keep the path from the Shrieking Shack to the Whomping Willow open, or the one behind the one-eyed crone, but after George had pointed out that many had been barricaded after being discovered by Death Eaters, those passages had lost some of their appeal. After realizing that Aberforth would not want to continue using his bar as a means into the castle once the War was over, George and Lee put their heads together to find a good location for a new one. They decided not to put one in the Hogsmeade branch of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Too expected. So they put it where most students in their right minds were not likely to go - Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop. Not that Pyrene Puddifoot knew that the opening to the underground passage was there. They had been careful not to make it inside the shop - no one wanted to be seen going to and from the shop so frequently - but rather had placed the opening on the back of the tiny shed-cum-herb garden. One simply had to slip back to the shed, tap your wand on the painted bumblebee in the garden mosaic, and say _Dissendium_ , and a trapdoor would appear in the cobblestone road. One simply took the little stepladder down into the passage and walked to the school.

Once he had come to the opening of the passage - concealed behind a painting of a banquet three down from the painting that leads to the kitchens, just down the Hufflepuff hallway - he pressed his ear to the door. He could hear a few faint footsteps. He waited for quiet before he carefully pushed open the door and slipped into the deserted hallway. Tempted as he was to stop by the kitchens to say hello to the house elves and grab a snack, he was here on a recon mission.

He walked down the empty hallways, up flights of stairs, making quick turns here and there, until he ended up at the History of Magic classroom. He pressed his ear to the door. Hermione's voice rang out clearly, even though the heavy wooden door.

_During 1911, the gargoyles went on strike without the permission of their union leader. Now, as we saw with the goblin strike of 1872, this leads to nothing but bad consequences for all of those involved._

He grinned before heading to the nearest staircase, taking the steps two at a time. His eyes roved over the paintings as he turned into a hallway bathed in a green-gold light from where the sun filtered in through the moss and ivy that climbed the walls. The old men and women that populated the paintings eyed him carefully over their pince-nez and spectacles, peeking from around towers of heavy looking tomes. He was just about to head to _her painting_ when—

"Lee? What are you doing here?"

Bollocks.


	6. Chapter 6

"Lee? What are you doing here?"

Bollocks.

"Lee?"

He fought back a grimace before he turned, hitching on a bright smile, to face the Divinations professor. "Lavender! Funny running into you here!"

She put her hands on her hips, setting all of her bangles and bracelets to jingling. "Not really; I work here."

Lee glanced around, a look of innocent confusion of his face. "Not _here_ , certainly. This is the fourth floor, the History Wing." He let the silence fill the space for a moment before he said, "I'd think this would be too dismal for you. Not the right perch to get that connection one needs for divination." 

Lavender's mien shifted from suspicious to pleased. Clearly she was missing the indignant mumbles and hissing whispers by the famous historians and philosophers that lined the walls. 

"You feel that too? Honestly, so many people just don't understand how subtle things in the environment can really affect the inner eye."

"Well, I guess people generally aren’t as perceptive as me," he said with a goofy grin that hid the fact that his brain was whirring at top speed to think of a new plan. 

"So what are you doing here, Lee?" Lavender asked, taking a few steps forward, wrapping one of her long blonde curls around her index finger as she smiled at him a little too intensely to be just friendly. 

His first impulse was to grimace, but then the idea struck. He could use this. He would feel like he needed to take a scalding shower after this, but he could definitely use this. He set his hand on the stone wall, leaned slightly, and hitched on his most charming smile. "I was doing research for my show on the start of the new year. Care to help me out, Lav?" He winked.

Lavender's cheeks turned pink and she let out one of her patented, grating girlish giggles. "What did you have in mind?"

 _Get rid of her. Get rid of her. Get rid of her._ "Would you be able to tell me about your experiences and impressions of the new staff, especially the new Headmaster? I mean, you're so good at reading people." _More like reading and spreading gossip._ "Your insight would be invaluable to us at RiverWatch." He smiled his most winning smile, knowing it would highlight his dimples, which girls always seemed to love. 

It was like someone had shown her the Grim in a kid's teacup. "Oh, I'd love to! Are you free now?" 

Without waiting for an answer, she clutched his arm and started dragging him down the hall to the nearest staircase. He continued for a few paces before stopping, tugging his arm carefully out of her vividly purple-manicured grip. 

"Oh drat – I just remembered I promised to stop by and see Longbottom before his class ended. Had a plant he wanted to show me. Could you be a dear and just write it for me? I'll make sure to read from it on air." He took a few small steps backwards down the hall. 

"Oh," Lavender pouted. "Well, I suppose so. I was hoping we could go to my office. Maybe have a cup of tea?" 

She did _not_ mean just "tea;" Lee could see that.

"Oh, you temptress!" he said, clicking his tongue in a what a shame way. "I wish I could, Lav, but I've got to see Neville and then stop by the new Headmaster's headquarters. But honestly, thank you so much for writing that bit up for me."

She looked a little put out, but recovered quickly and gave him a simpering smile. "It's no problem, really. I'll write that up this evening and send it to you."

"Thanks so much. You're an angel!" he said, beaming at her before giving a wave and heading back down the hall and around the corner. He waited for the sound of her jingling jewelry and clicking heels to fade out before he hurried back out to the portrait. Garius Tomkink peered down at him over his spectacles as he scratched at his temple with the tip of his wand. 

"What do you want, sonny-jim?" 

"Bathilda."

"You want who?" the wizened old historian asked, his voice surprisingly deep from such a frail, stooped man. 

"It's the password. To get in." They stared at each other for a moment. Lee sighed. "I want entrance into the office."

"Does the young lady know you are going in?"

"It's sort of a surprise? So if be grateful if you didn't mention it to—"

"What year did the gargoyles go on non-unionized strike in Britain?"

"Pardon?" asked Lee, utterly thrown.

"What year? You need to know your history if you want me to do you a favor, sonny-jim." Tomkink smirked. Seemed the old coot was far sharper than he let on.

"Errr...” How the hell was he supposed to know this? The twins and he had always used History of Magic for brainstorming new products. He wracked his brains for a possible answer. Hermione’s words earlier drifted back to him, rather fortuitously. "Nineteen-eleven?" he guessed. 

Tomkink winked at Lee before swinging forward to reveal an oval opening that led to the History of Magic professor's private office. He gave the room a cursory glance, wondering where he should start his research into the mind and inner workings of Hermione. His fingertips trailed along the spines on her bookshelves, mostly belonging to different magical history books. Here and there, however, he found unexpected things – muggle mystery books; biographies and memoirs of people long dead; fairy tale books – magical and muggle alike. He examined the photos that rested atop the fireplace; some with her parents on vacations, some with her best friends, and one in the center with McGonagall, in which both women were, surprisingly, beaming. He continued on his search. 

There were cabinets, full of paperwork presumably, and papers littering her desk. There was a tack board behind her desk on which notes had been edited and annotated in different colors. As he moved closer, he saw that they were all pages of history books, carefully cut out from their book and filled with Hermione's tidy, looping handwriting. He glanced at one of the pages that had a lot of red on it. It was a page out of _Hogwarts: A History_ on the Chamber of Secrets. 

_Filled with snake sculptures and a huge bust of himself, the mouth of which lowered to reveal the basilisk - defeated in 1993 - all can be a visual testament to the grandiose nature of Salazar Slytherin and his pride in his ability to speak and understand Parseltongue._

He chuckled. And then it hit him, glancing at some of the other main pages ripped out - the TriWizard Tournament, the Great Lake, the Shrieking Shack, Hogsmeade - she was pulling out pieces of Hogwarts: A History and was working on updating it. He hummed appreciatively to himself. He had to give her credit; she was nothing if not resourceful. What better way to use all of hers and Harry's and Ron's adventures throughout the years. She was setting herself up to be the next Bathilda Bagshot. Well, minus the possession by Voldemort bit. He was just leaning into read her notes on the story behind the Grey Lady when he heard voices approaching.

"—and it's just been hell to find, Professor. You would think there would be more books on 1602 Banshee Trials, but the school library doesn't even carry it."

"Actually, I have that in my office. I'll loan you the book, Mr. McMurray. I really think you'll find it helpful for your essay," said Hermione, her voice slowly growing louder with her approach. 

Lee panicked. You couldn't apparate on the grounds, and he could never get away with hiding. He looked around desperately. The fire! He rushed over, took a pinch of the fine powder from the crystal dish on the mantle, and threw it. Emerald flames burst into life. 

Thinking quickly, Lee hissed, "Herbology Office!" and nearly threw himself into the flames. He could see as he whizzed away the flames disappearing, which was a lucky thing because right then, Hermione was putting her foot through the doorway.

She looked around. She could smell fire and that ozone scent of floo powder always left behind. Momentarily disregarding it, she searched her shelves until her fingers ran along the spine of _Brougham v. Banshee_ by Shira Banning. 

"Here you are, McMurray. Just give it back to me one you've finished your essay. And be careful with the pages; its a very old copy and rips easily."

The seventh year Slytherin nodded his thanks and, with a small smile twisting his thin lips, headed out of her office. She followed him out, pleased to see that the industrious boy had already pulled out his reading glasses and cracked open the book. She turned to her portrait guardian, who was examining a book another painting had handed him.

"Garius, do you know if my fire has been used while I was gone? Was someone here?"

It took Garius a moment to look up at her. "Hmm? Oh, someone left using your floo." He went back to reading; she had been dismissed.

She smiled at him and headed back in. A teacher probably had come looking for her and, when they found the empty room, had left. She shrugged and sat at her desk, pulling a stack of papers towards her and starting to grade.  
.  
.  
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"BLOODY HELL!" was the shout that accompanied Lee's tumbling out of the Herbology Office's fireplace. Lee stuck his hands out just in time to save his face from smacking the stone floor. He closed his eyes and panted, trying to catch his breath. 

"What in the name of Merlin, Lee? Are you trying to give me a heart attack?" Hurried footsteps neared and stopped by his head.

Lee rolled over and looked up at a flushed-faced Neville Longbottom. "Hey there, Neville," he said casually before starting to pick himself up. "Would you believe I was running from Lavender?" 

Neville tried to give Lee an admonishing look, but was failing spectacularly. 

"I ducked into a professor's office, and your office was the first place I had thought of."

"Lucky me," Neville said with a chuckle. "So what brings you to Hogwarts today?" He headed back behind his desk and gestured for Lee to take the seat across from him. At Lee's questioning look, he added, "It's my planning period."

"Well, I'm trying to get the scoop on how things are going with the new Headmaster so far. There's been a lot of changes in these past couple of years, and I want to do a special on how things are going. You know, _from the inside_."

"So you're snooping?" Neville said.

"Us reporters prefer the term 'investigating', thank you," replied Lee haughtily, making Neville grin. 

Neville relaxed back into his chair, interweaving his fingers while he thought. It was nice to see Neville so well adjusted and calm, such a departure from the nervous and flustered boy he had been at school. The War had brought out a soldier in him, and he had emerged lean, steady, and determined. 

"Soooo," he said, staring out into space as he tried to list everything out, "Hermione and I came on right after the rebuild, so that was six years ago. Blaise came on the year after that – it took Hermione's convincing a while to win him over. McGonagall was Head for all of that; unanimous vote for her appointment, obviously."

The bright blue Verbatim Veritas – Quick Quotes Quill had expanded their line to include quills that took down notes word-for-word, marketed for students and non-corrupt journalists – that Lee had set up on some parchment when he sat down was whizzing across the page. It halted and let Lee roll up the parchment to make room for more writing before it set off again.

"So that was five years ago...hmm...oh, then there was that huge recruitment year when all the professors who stayed to bring the school back all retired! Lavender came on to replace Trelawney and Padma replaced that Greek chap that came on after the War as a favor to Flitwick because no one wanted to take the Defense Against the Dark Arts class—"

"Naturally," muttered Lee. Once the story of no one lasting more than a year because of Voldemort had leaked, no one had applied for the job, even though Voldemort was dead. 

"Naturally," Neville sighed. "And that's when McGonagall gave up teaching - honestly, we were amazed she kept doing it while Headmaster –and Hartwicke Cleaves came on."

"How long did it take for him and Lavender to... _you know_? Off the record, obviously." He grinned evilly.

"Why in the world would I know or care about these things?" demanded Neville. "But off the record," he said quietly, "Padma told me it was within the first three months. And imploded in less than that." The two men laughed. "But back to the interview! That's also when Shay came on for Flitwick."

"Shay?"

"You know Shay, don't you? Charlemagne Chesterfield is his full name."

"I'd go by 'Shay' too, with a name like that," muttered Lee. "Wait! He's that French bloke, right?"

"Yeah. Nice guy. Head of Hufflepuff. Anyways, it's been pretty quiet since then, until Pannychis came on. And Hannah is working with Madame Pomfrey and is set to take over next year if all goes to plan. Poppy has finally decided to retire. – Hannah would undoubtedly tell me to say 'hello' from her, by the way. – But Pannychis seems all right. Very...enthused."

Lee smirked at Neville's underwhelmed expression. "And you're obviously not."

"He's very into these American 'team-building' exercises and 'pep-rallies' and the like. We have bi-monthly meetings because he wants to be involved with the staff and students."

"Sounds like he's forgotten how to keep that British upper lip stiff," Lee joked, to which Neville vigorously nodded. Lee's quill was just adding a period to Lee's last comment when the bells tolled, signaling the end of the period.

"Well, hope I've been of help," said Neville as he stood up, "but I'm off to go teach from fourth years. It's always fun to see them get unnerved by the bubotubers."

They shook hands but before Lee could let go, Neville leaned in conspiratorially. "Oh, and you can use the fire to get home too, if you'd like."

Lee grinned and rolled his eyes. He clapped Neville on the back and headed to the fireplace. He had a report to work on.


End file.
